Forgiven (5 page)

He made no effort to pick it up, not about to reveal he could barely read.

‘The next article will be longer,’ she added.

‘What?’ he said, confused.

‘You’re an intriguing subject. One article will not do you justice.’

‘I’m not good with—’

‘Beck,’ she said, softer now, immediately commanding his attention. ‘The hunters will not give up until they have the girl. If you don’t help them, they will hold you responsible.’

‘I can’t help them if I don’t where she is.’

There was another kiss, longer this time and on the mouth. After the door closed behind her, a hint of her floral perfume lingered, reminding Beck of the time they’d spent together, of how good it’d been between them.

He opened the paper and began to hunt for the two words he knew best: his name. When he found the article, he worked through it at a tediously slow pace. Some words made sense, some did not. Nothing he read seemed too bad.

I’m too damn paranoid. It’s her job to ask questions.

So why was he having second thoughts about Justine Armando?

To keep from losing his cool at being caged up, he’d turned on the big-screen television. Tempting as it was to find a raunchy adult movie and charge it to the hunters’ bill to piss them off, he opted for a show about the pyramids. He’d always wanted to travel around the world, but, other than the army and the Middle East, it’d been Georgia, Georgia and more Georgia. Just as the narrator was showing him the inside of one of the pharaoh’s tombs, a demon hunter showed up at the door and handed him his phone.

‘Beck.’

‘It’s Donovan.’

He sat up straighter. This was the county sheriff from where Beck grew up. He hadn’t spoken to the man in over six months. More often than not he was usually on the wrong side of both Donovan and the law.

‘What’s up?’ Beck asked neutrally.

‘Things are starting to heat up down here. Questions being asked about what happened in the swamp all those years back. Those boys’ parents are pushing me for answers. I thought you might like to know.’

Oh God.
‘I told you I had nothin’ to do with that.’

Silence.

Donovan wouldn’t have called him just for that bad news. ‘So what’s really up?’ Beck asked.

The sheriff cleared his throat. ‘Your momma isn’t well. You coming down to see her?’

Beck didn’t like his tone, as if he was a misbehaving kid. ‘When the time comes.’

‘That wasn’t what I wanted hear.’

Beck turned his back on the hunters at the door in an attempt to keep the conversation private. ‘I’ll be down there when I have time. Don’t ya dare act like she wants to see me. Sadie’s long past givin’ a damn about me.’

There was lengthy silence. ‘Do you know what’s going on with her?’

‘Last I heard she had pneumonia, but she was gettin’ better.’

‘Ah, damn,’ the man said. ‘She didn’t tell you. Why can’t that woman—’

‘Tell me what?’

‘She’s got lung cancer. It’s spread.’

Beck jammed his eyes shut as conflicting emotions churned within him. ‘I didn’t know, I swear,’ he admitted.

‘Well, now you do. I know things are bad up there, but she might not have that much time.’

Beck didn’t bother to ask why Sadie hadn’t told him. That was her way. It had nothing to do with being strong in the face of the illness, but everything to do with their toxic relationship.

He worked his jaw back and forth, trying to unclench it. ‘I’ll try to get down there as soon as I can.’

‘That’s all I ask. Thanks, Denver. Looking forward to seeing you again.’

Beck disconnected the call and stared at the display for a time. When he was growing up, Donovan had been like a big brother. Then he’d turned all law-man and run Beck out of Sadlersville when he was sixteen, driving him up to his uncle’s house in Atlanta after Beck had got in a knife fight. Donovan laid it out in his simple way: Beck stayed out of town unless he wanted his next address to be a prison. Beck hadn’t returned to Sadlersville until right before he went into the Army, in case his next trip home was in a body bag.

Beck tossed the phone back to the anxious hunter. ‘Thanks.’

This time both of the Vatican’s boys left the room. Perhaps they’d decided he wasn’t going to try to make a break for it or hang himself in the shower. There was no way he could get back into the TV show, so he clicked it off. Of all the things in his world he feared, Hell and all its demons ran a slow second to Sadie Beck.

Now she’s dyin’.

Sitting east of downtown Atlanta, Little Five Points’ streets had its share of traffic, on foot or otherwise. Today was no different. As Riley headed towards the rendezvous point a mare pulling a cart rolled past, followed by a carriage and then a rusty Datsun with a do-it-yourself solar panel on its roof. Gas had grown so expensive that folks took mass transit, went horse-drawn or augmented their rides with the panels to offset the cost. Trappers had little choice in the matter – if they caught bigger demons, hauling them around in a wagon or on a city bus wasn’t an option. They paid the going rate for the fuel and bitched a lot.

Despite the incredible disguise Mort had cooked up for her, Riley’s nerves jittered around like a ten-cup-a-day coffee addict. At any moment she expected sleek black demon hunter vans to screech to a halt and dudes in paramilitary garb to pour out on to the street. Then she’d be in a world of hurt.

What do they do to people who sleep with angels?
She doubted if it was a slap on the wrist and a lecture about morality.
I’ll just have to keep on the run until they go back to Rome.
She’d have to find a job that paid cash under the table. In short, her life was toast.

To short circuit her worrying, Riley strolled through one of the secondhand shops. If she was going to leave Atlanta, she needed some clothes.

A few people noticed her, but none of them posed a threat. One girl about her own age gave her a thumbs up and called out, ‘Wicked!’ Riley grinned. She’d never been one of the cool kids in school, not with both parents being teachers.

As she strolled down through the bins of used clothes, she spied a grey hoody with a cool winged design on the front. She checked the price – two dollars – and held it up against her to test the size.
That works.
A few bins later she found a black backpack. She loved her messenger bag, but it wasn’t doing the trick as everything ended up in a jumble at the bottom of the thing. That was annoying if she was hunting for her lip gloss. It was dangerous when she was fumbling for a Holy Water sphere to lob at a demon, especially when every second counted.
Like I’ll ever be able to trap again.
She pushed that gloomy thought aside.

Riley checked her wallet and bartered the price down to five bucks for both items. Once outside the shop there was no sign of Peter, so she moved her belongings from one pack to the other, including her father’s research into the history of Holy Water. As she held the sheaf of papers, it made her smile. No matter if he was reanimate or not, Paul Blackthorne would always be an academic.

At the bottom of her messenger bag she found the chamois pouch her witch friend Ayden had given her. She’d forgotten about that. Ayden had said she should put items into it that mattered to her. Right now it only held a little dirt from her father’s grave. Once everything was transferred to the new backpack, she folded up the messenger bag and crammed it inside. When she left Atlanta, she’d need both to carry her stuff.

Riley scanned the street again. There were no hunter vans, but now Peter King sat on a brick wall near a tattoo parlour, studying something on his cellphone. She crossed the street and sat about ten feet away from him. He shot her a quick look and went back to texting someone on his phone.

If her best friend didn’t recognize her, this whole magic thing might work.

Peter looked different too, scruffier and less nerdy, though nothing as dramatic as her transformation, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, which suggested he’d finally got a pair of contacts. His brown hair was spikier now, something his mother never would have let him get away with. She’d moved out of the house and back to Illinois, leaving Peter’s dad in charge, and that seemed to have been a catalyst for a few changes.

Though she was eager to talk to him, Riley scouted the area again. Once she was reasonably sure her friend hadn’t been followed, she moved closer to him. Peter gave her a longer look this time and frowned. It had to be because of all her body jewellery.

‘Hi,’ she said, lowering her voice below what was normal for her. It made her sound like she had a cold.

‘Hi,’ he replied, then returned to his phone.

Score one for Mort.

‘Peter?’ she said in her usual voice. His eyes whipped back to her. ‘What do you think of the new Riley?’ she asked, teasingly.

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Whoa! Get out of here. Have you seen yourself in a mirror?’

She stuck out her tongue, knowing what he’d do next.

‘Oh, God,’ he said, grimacing. ‘You know I hate tongue studs. I can’t believe you got one. And your hair is awful.’

Riley laughed and moved closer to him. ‘It’s all magic. I have this bracelet that does it. I take it off and I’m me again.’

‘You’re joking, right? No, you’re not. So where have you been hiding?’

She leaned over and whispered the location in his ear.

‘He’s the necro who helped you with the magic?’ She nodded. ‘Well, it works.’ Peter frowned. ‘Is that a tattoo of a vampire bat on your neck?’

‘Yup. Admit it – it’s cool.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ he said grudgingly.

She did a quick look around. ‘I found my dad. He’s at Mort’s.’

‘Go you!’ Peter said, and they executed a High Five. Then he quickly sobered at what that really meant. ‘What’s he like now?’

‘He’s sorta like when you’ve been up all night cramming for a test. There’s moments of brilliance followed by long stretches of totally zoned.’

‘That sucks.’ Peter rose, stuffing his phone into a pocket, eager to be on the move. ‘Remind me never to get reanimated.’

‘That’s two of us, dude.’

Riley grinned at the role reversal. ‘I could get used to this,’ she said as Peter wove his car between two horse-drawn carriages. ‘Usually I have to drive you around.’

Her friend looked over at her, made a face at her disguise and then returned his eyes to the road. ‘Dad said I can borrow the car as long as I put gas in it. Which means I won’t be taking it too often if I want a new computer this year.’

‘Parents are devious like that,’ Riley said. ‘They give you something with one hand and then take it back with the other.’

‘Why do the hunters want you?’

‘I’ll explain later.’

Peter gave her a worried look. ‘You never stall unless it’s something really bad.’

‘That would be right.’

Belatedly, Riley realized the car was not heading towards her apartment. ‘Hey, where are we going?’

‘To the Holy Water plant we checked out the other day. We need to do a stakeout and see what’s really going on in there.’

‘What? I’m a fugitive from justice,’ she replied. ‘I
do not
have time to babysit some idiot building. I need to get out of this town.’
Before I lose my nerve.

Peter shook his head. ‘That’s
exactly
what the hunters are counting on. They have to be watching every bus and train station. The airport too. And don’t even think about going to your apartment.’

‘I have to get my money. You know I can’t keep it in the bank, not with the debt collectors swarming around.’ Her mother’s death had left behind a sizeable loan for her medical care and now that Riley’s dad was dead she was the collectors’ prime target. If she put money in a bank account, they just siphoned it off.

‘If you run, they’ll just hunt you down like a rabid dog. You need leverage with these guys, something to bargain with, and if we can bust that scam that will be your ticket to freedom.’

‘But—’

‘I’m dead serious, Riley,’ he retorted, his voice rising. ‘Since you’re in my car, you’ll just have to deal.’